So turns out there is a small, albeit vocal, following of this blog here in Dili (and yes, of course the family abroad are yelling out!) who implored me to keep writing. While I realize the initial draw for most readers who were not somehow related to us, was perhaps something of the intrigue of the whole ordeal, and that - in all fairness, that has since pretty much worn off. Which, after fourteen months, I have come to appreciate as a good thing.
By way of a preface, I should point out that today, May 27th, is and was always supposed to be Luka's due date. Of course, 'they' tell you that due dates are all a pile of smelly stuff, which in my enlightened state of pregnancy led me to respond to the big question with 'oh somewhere toward the end of May' - but secretly, every first-time pregnant woman hangs on to the notion of a due date like she last did for good weather on her wedding day even though 'they' tell you rain means good luck.
So, here we are, a whole two months and one week after we celebrated Luka's 1st birthday in the US with the extended US and South African families, and we have so much to be grateful for. Chris and I recently reminisced about how much Luka has changed (matured if you will) in the past two months from this young man playing with his legos in grandma's house, to the toothy toddler rough-housing at today's bub club.
Of course, people point out what an amazing little creature he has become, and what a miracle the whole story is. Which just reminded me once again over the past few days how incredibly, and indescribably fortunate we have been. In thinking back to the dreadful day where we boarded a 70-minute flight to our future family, and measuring the difference between March 22 and May 27th, I am just blown away when I think of the whole thing one year ago. I was not quite as able to take in the whole 'due date' anniversary last year as this day last year also coincides with the day that Luka was released from his second stint in the NICU, for his emergency surgery in Cape Town.
Consider that Timor-Leste, one of the poorest countries in Asia and where we currently live, is not the best place to be a child. According to Save the Children, at least 54% of Timorese children under five have stunted growth due to malnutrition. In addition, it seems to me that most families I come across know first-hand the pain of losing a child(ren) at some point. For most Timorese women, even the option of hospitalization is not always there, let alone one with the kind of care one would need for a premature birth. My recent discussions and guidance to a colleague who's friend had a premature baby in the national hospital a few weeks ago and was being kept in a separate room in the hospital, away from the infant, with no instruction to touch, care for, or hold the small creature, alerted me to the breadth of support one needs in a situation such as the one we had.
Of course, I had a credit card and could access the internet to book a one-way ticket out of here. I also had a US passport and health insurance to evacuate and get the care that my child seemingly deserved to give him the jump-start he needed. As a result, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty when I bounce a healthy 11kg former preemie who more closely resemble 3-year old Timorese kids. When I say 'guilty', I don't mean it in a melodramatic sort of way - but just that I can't imagine what I would have done without the caring instructions, guidance, support and encouragement I received from my midwives, pediatricians, nurses, lactation consultants and every other single person that guided us through that time in our life.
Today, we love watching Luka as he finally figures out this 'walking' thing, click his tongue, point to the light and hug our cat Gus. I live for, and relish in his recent rediscovering of hugging and lap-sitting, especially at night, after his massage and bottle, when he decides he has had enough milk, hands me the bottle, sits up on my lap - throws his arms around my neck, and nuzzles his face, snuggling in secret for a few seconds before pointing to his bed.
On his due date, all these many weeks after his actual birth date, I say a small prayer for all those who go into premature labor without the support network, care, encouragement and resources that I had at my disposal. I also thank, once again, the doctors, midwives, nurses and administrators at the Royal Darwin Hospital in Australia, as well as my birth and antenatal coaches, and the staff and doctors at Vincent Palotti Hospital in Cape Town. Luka is a product of his strong-willed parents, but he is also a testament to the difference world-class medical care make in our lives.
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| Luka 22 March 2012, Visalia CA |
So, here we are, a whole two months and one week after we celebrated Luka's 1st birthday in the US with the extended US and South African families, and we have so much to be grateful for. Chris and I recently reminisced about how much Luka has changed (matured if you will) in the past two months from this young man playing with his legos in grandma's house, to the toothy toddler rough-housing at today's bub club.
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| Luka, Dili 27 May, 2012 |
Consider that Timor-Leste, one of the poorest countries in Asia and where we currently live, is not the best place to be a child. According to Save the Children, at least 54% of Timorese children under five have stunted growth due to malnutrition. In addition, it seems to me that most families I come across know first-hand the pain of losing a child(ren) at some point. For most Timorese women, even the option of hospitalization is not always there, let alone one with the kind of care one would need for a premature birth. My recent discussions and guidance to a colleague who's friend had a premature baby in the national hospital a few weeks ago and was being kept in a separate room in the hospital, away from the infant, with no instruction to touch, care for, or hold the small creature, alerted me to the breadth of support one needs in a situation such as the one we had.
Of course, I had a credit card and could access the internet to book a one-way ticket out of here. I also had a US passport and health insurance to evacuate and get the care that my child seemingly deserved to give him the jump-start he needed. As a result, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty when I bounce a healthy 11kg former preemie who more closely resemble 3-year old Timorese kids. When I say 'guilty', I don't mean it in a melodramatic sort of way - but just that I can't imagine what I would have done without the caring instructions, guidance, support and encouragement I received from my midwives, pediatricians, nurses, lactation consultants and every other single person that guided us through that time in our life.
Today, we love watching Luka as he finally figures out this 'walking' thing, click his tongue, point to the light and hug our cat Gus. I live for, and relish in his recent rediscovering of hugging and lap-sitting, especially at night, after his massage and bottle, when he decides he has had enough milk, hands me the bottle, sits up on my lap - throws his arms around my neck, and nuzzles his face, snuggling in secret for a few seconds before pointing to his bed.
On his due date, all these many weeks after his actual birth date, I say a small prayer for all those who go into premature labor without the support network, care, encouragement and resources that I had at my disposal. I also thank, once again, the doctors, midwives, nurses and administrators at the Royal Darwin Hospital in Australia, as well as my birth and antenatal coaches, and the staff and doctors at Vincent Palotti Hospital in Cape Town. Luka is a product of his strong-willed parents, but he is also a testament to the difference world-class medical care make in our lives.
Honestly - Luka is simply so wonderful. His smile, his 'posing' for the pics are simply amazing. I can see he is a very happy baby. And who wouldn't be, with you as parents! Tanx so much for posting stories and pics. It helps a lot as we are so faaaar away from our grandchild.
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